


Dear, I Think Our House is Haunted

by Equinoxes



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: A Day in a Life of the Pontmercys, Birthday fic for a friend, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Equinoxes/pseuds/Equinoxes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, Marius and Cosette move into a nice house in the country side of Paris and Marius finds that there are ghosts haunting the place who are bothering him</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear, I Think Our House is Haunted

After Jean Valjean’s death, Marius bought a house in the countryside with the 600,000 francs only to find out that mysterious events were happening in it. In order to understand what transpired the moment when Marius and Cosette moved into their house, we must first describe the exterior and interior of the place.

The Pontmercy house was of respectable size with brick walls and a lavish garden in the backyard and front yard, which were framed with a white picket fence. Flowers adorned the window sills, and the house was surrounded by grand oak trees. It had two stories that resided in the outskirts of Paris. Inside was sparsely furnished with a few chairs, tables, and dinnerware. The walls were wooden and the floor was mahogany; a fireplace was on the left wall with a dusty rug in front it. The kitchen had a stove, a table, and pots and pans lying about. Upstairs were three bedrooms that had gaudy floral wallpaper. There was a single bathroom located on the first floor.

Despite being in terrible condition, the Pontmercys lived within it. They replaced the wallpaper with something more pleasant and bought new furniture and a couple of paintings to brighten up the house. Within a few months, the interior was completely redecorated and the couple could finally settle in. But not all was peaceful in the household. It all started when Marius noticed that his hats had gone missing and placed at random places around the house.

Marius swore that their house was haunted and immediately proclaimed that they should move out, much to the annoyance of Cosette, who insisted that they should stay. She blamed his insanity on the stress of moving, but Marius claimed that he was perfectly fine.

Often, when Marius was upstairs in the night, he would hear drunken singing of La Marseillaise and when he went downstairs, it ceased. Every morning, he would find the windows open, the flowers slightly disturbed, and his books rifled through. The floorboards would creak and Marius swore that he heard several sneezes coming from outside. Glasses would clink together and laughter would soon follow after that. Cosette insisted that it was all in his head and that there was nothing to worry about, but all of this activity happened when she was asleep or out of the house. What bothered Marius the most was that he had no idea who or what was haunting him. This continued month after month until one day, Marius gave up and settled himself downstairs for a night to investigate what was going on.

It was in the middle of July and the sun hung low in the sky. Marius was sitting comfortably on his chair with a book on his lap. The fragrance of flowers wafting through the air combined with the summer heat created a soporific atmosphere. It was no surprise that the man fell asleep in no time – only to be woken up by a crash in the kitchen a few hours later. Immediately, he sprung up from his seat in a fright.

“Good God,” Marius murmured. His forehead was covered with sweat and his breathing was labored. “These ghosts must be poltergeists if they’re making this much of a commotion and I don’t even know who is haunting me.” He looked around him and sighed. Is he going to have to put up with this for the rest of his life? So help him God if he does.

The window suddenly opened and let in the cool night’s air. For the second time that day, Marius nearly had a heart attack. Hesitantly, he stood up from the chair and walked towards the window. As he approached, he could hear faint breathing, and his heartbeat sped up even faster than before. How was he supposed to communicate with them anyway?

He spotted a piece of paper and a pen. An idea came to his mind. Taking the objects, he wrote down a couple of words.

“Marius?” Cosette called. “Are you there? What on earth are you doing at this time in the night? The sun hasn’t even risen yet and you’re making a racket downstairs!”

“I’m writing a letter to the ghosts,” responded Marius.  “It will be quick, I promise dear.” He scribbled out the last word in a flourish and went upstairs to Cosette, who was annoyed at being up so early. 

“Really Marius,” Cosette said as she met him on top of the stairs. Her arms were crossed and she had a severe case of bed-head. Even when Cosette was in this state, she still looked very beautiful and radiant to Marius. “Just go back upstairs and calm yourself. Staying up late won’t make those so-called ‘ghosts’ go away you know.”

“They are real!” an exasperated Marius said. “For some reason they just bother me but not you and it always happens when you’re not here! I’ll prove you wrong tomorrow, I’m sure of it.” With that he went upstairs to his wife.

The pen started moving. 

At around 10 o’clock in the morning, he found the paper with scribbles on it. Written on it in neat handwriting was:

_Hello Monsieur Marius,_

_It’s about time that you noticed us, you nincompoop. Yes, we are all here to bother you. We might be all dead, but there is life even after death. Don’t ask why we’re at your house instead of heaven or wherever place people go to in death, we don’t know either. Combeferre suspects that there is something of ours that is in your house that ties us here. Until you find that object, enjoy our company while it lasts. Now, we can move on to the explanations of the strange events that happened at your house._

_Feuilly apologizes for opening your windows (he likes seeing the stars at night) and you can blame Courfeyrac for stealing your hats. Bousset was the one who broke your plates and the one who carefully glued the pieces back together. Grantaire was the one who drunkenly sang the national anthem among others, if you didn’t figure it out already. Enjorlas was the one who aggressively breathed down on your neck that one time you talked about politics, and will continue to do so. He’s also the reason why your house isn’t completely destroyed. There is no doubt that many more things will be broken in the future and in advance, we deeply apologize._

_Sincerely_ _,_

_Les Amis de l'ABC_

_P.S. If it’s not any trouble, can you run out and get more beer? Your supply has run out. Thanks._

The entire letter was written in Combeferre’s handwriting. In some places, the writing faded and there were numerous cross outs. Just below the last line, the signatures of all the members were signed in a messy fashion. Grantaire’s was an elaborate “R” that took up a whole corner of the paper while Enjolras's was the biggest out of all of them.

Marius smiled at the sight of his old friends, not even perturbed that they drank all of his alcohol or that they were the cause of his slight increase in blood pressure. He was in good, if not lively, company. The revolution may be over, but the bonds between the people who tie it together, last forever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a friend on tumblr who loves Les Miserables just as much as me (maybe even more). Happy Birthday Marella!


End file.
